Just venting.

I was diagnosed "Bipolar I with Psychotic Features" earlier this year. My psychiatrist moved and I saw my new psychiatrist today. He was a good. He altered my medications, which was unexpected, but appropriate. His reasoning was sound, and I agree with his methods specifically to prevent mania.

Mania is something I fear. It's not this breath of fresh air, productivity, and creativity some make it out to be. It can start that way, but - in my case - it bleeds into something far more harmful.

Thus, I appreciate the new doctor's care. Nevertheless, I have been stable in the past few months especially and hope the medicinal tweaks don't compromise that. So, there's a little fear there, but I have a great support system.

I haven't been able to hold down a job since I left college. I barely graduated from college. It's been a hard decade - the diagnosis was welcome, really, because it explained what had been wrong with me all this time. I finally had proof - however high the cost was - I am different from the general population. Working is harder for me. Not impossible,

but far more challenging.

This makes me feel pretty sorry for myself. I hope to work and provide/contribute financially. I believe firmly there is more to life than a paycheck and there are many ways to contribute to your home and society beyond a conventional job. Nevertheless, I went to college anticipating I would be income-earning. Struggling to do that has been a source of shame.

Even now, I can't help but say to myself "when do I think I can work again?" This is after a psychotic break. I've been convalescing. Things are looking up once again, and if I can stay stable beyond the New Year, I think I might try (to work again). Maybe from home, if I can. Maybe part time - but something.

And if that blows up in my face, I'll keep giving of my time and resources to people I know who also struggle. Many ways to live a meaningful life.

It still hurts. I'm too intelligent and prideful not to feel bad about myself for being unwell. Many days I forget about it and take my self-care seriously; I treat that like a full-time job some days.

I have to remind myself I'm supposed to be here.

You're supposed to be here, too.

The days have been better, lately. Just a pouty night. I come to this sub and often read the accounts of people on the same medications or who have had similar experiences.

Keep sharing - the catalog of anecdotes here is incredibly valuable.